


Only Dreaming

by 13thDoctor



Series: Stay With Me [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Homophobia, Hopeful Ending, Implied Masturbation, M/M, Mild Language, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13thDoctor/pseuds/13thDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl ponders his feelings about Rick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Dreaming

_Touch me again in my dreams till I feel  
Touch me again till I wake and it's real_

 

The Dixons had very few rules. Born and bred as hunters, liars, hustlers, and drinkers, there were an infinite number of lines they were willing to cross. Therefore, any rules that they did lay were sacred and deep, promises kept between two volatile brothers hell-bent on breaking any guideline or instruction forced upon the world.

The Dixons had one inviolable rule. Never fall in love.

Well, he’d fucked that one up.

Rick Grimes was a part of Daryl’s life that he could have never predicted. Loyal, altruistic, and compassionate, he was everything the younger Dixon brother was not, at least when they first met. He would protect a stranger just as strongly as he would protect his own family, a quality almost entirely unknown to the Dixon brothers. At first, Daryl hated him for his chivalry, his optimism. He wanted to crush that handsome face underneath his knuckles until his hands _burned._

Their bond grew quickly, though, and it was strong and close. Daryl knew from the start that his feelings were more than brotherly affection. He knew well enough that the dreams of Rick’s eyes gazing at him with passionate longing—dreams that woke him with moans and sweat—meant more than lust. When the dreams became waking fantasies, hidden in the woods where no one could hear his cries of the sheriff’s name, he knew he was ruined.

Daryl held his breath whenever Rick touched him, praying for the conviction not to force their lips together. The action itself would be so reckless. He couldn’t stand to lose Rick to such irresponsible idiocy, scared off by some gay redneck in love with a straight man. A _father,_ a husband. He buried every hope deep within himself, but could not stop himself from opening up to Rick and becoming his ally, his _friend._ It was emotional masochism at its finest.

The Dixons had a few other rules. One- take what you want, regardless of the consequences. Daryl was neither naïve nor cruel. Two- if a man wants you, he is sick. That was Merle’s, and Daryl only obeyed it when he was younger in the fear that his brother would kill him otherwise. Three- never cry, for it is the ultimate sign of weakness.

He’d fucked that one up, too.

In the woods there was a small group of ingrown trees that formed a somewhat comfortable alcove. A person could easily be sheltered by myriad leaves, branches, and roots, with only small beams of sunlight breaking its refuge. It was there that Daryl’s indulged his secret pleasures, and it was there he hid to cry.

Daryl loathed self-pity, but understood it well and succumbed to it far too often. He blamed Rick, of course. Rick, with his dark hair and bright eyes, tan skin and lean, hard muscle. Rick, who wore his heart on his sleeve while Daryl buried it and threw the key to the wolves.

He sighed that now, hand between his legs, conjuring up obscene images that made his heart wrench. When it was over, he laid back on the dirt with tears trickling down his grimy face, wishing for a man who could never return his love. Lost in his dreams, occasionally he imagined their life together.

Lovers to their dying breath, they would live in a secluded area with acres of forest stretched around them. Daryl would hunt and teach Rick the laws of the land, and Rick would teach Daryl how to look after someone other than himself. Carl and Judith grew into the outstanding adults he knew they could be, and they were surrounded by their friends and family until the end of their days. But the dream, so detailed and perfect, turned his grim reality bearable if only for a few stolen moments each day.

“Dammit!” he yelled at the apathetic sky.

A few birds flew through the trees, startled and angry at the disturbance as they shook the leaves. Continuing his cursing, he buckled his leather belt and crawled from beneath the alcove. He stood and spit violently, arms crossed over his ripped plaid sheet. Looking up at the dusty blue sky, pale yellow sun high in its expanse, some part of him wanted to sprint back to camp and kiss Rick until their lips bruised. He threw his head back, eyes closed to the heavens and brown hair curling in the hot southern breeze.

The Dixons had very few rules.

Daryl was content to break them all for Rick Grimes.


End file.
